


Masterpieces and Masterplans

by illsanity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9099934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illsanity/pseuds/illsanity
Summary: Lydia is constantly searching for something, and it's not like her to give up until she finds whatever - or whoever it is.Whether that be the perfect painting, or that boy named Stiles that she just can't get out of her head. After all, a masterplan is just like any masterpiece.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Taking place after Radio Silence, a bit of a Stydia one-shot to get through the hiatus.

Spring break had just let out, and Lydia was already extremely bored. After checking her texts for the fifth time to see she hadn’t received any, she decided to head to the museum. After all, the one class she thoroughly enjoyed this year was art and she had to get some inspiration for her next piece. 

After writing her mom a short note and leaving it on the refrigerator, Lydia made her way to her car and drove to the closest art museum. The last time Lydia had been to a museum was when her grandmother had taken her, and she thought a visit was long overdue. Especially since she really loved the art museum, after mentally cursing Stiles, she admitted that the only reason she hadn’t been was because it was something Jackson would’ve deemed boring. Thanks to Stiles and Allison she’d started accepting herself more, and was ok with the fact that she liked some boring nerdy things. So, if she wanted to be a theatre geek? She’d be one.

Lydia parked her car, and rummaged through her bag to find money for the museum fee. She held onto everything else she pulled out, until after she paid the fees. Then, as she walked in to the museum she looked through everything that had been stuffed in her bag; movie tickets from when the pack (mainly Stiles) had forced her to see movies, tickets from when they’d went bowling or to amusement parks, notes that Kira and Lydia had passed in class, and just random little sketches Lydia had thrown in there. Lydia decides to stuff all of the little things back into her bag, and organize it later.

She continues to walk down the museum looking for something inspiring, and continuously coming out empty-handed. Until, she stops at a painting that was very much deserted, but also very intriguing. Technically, it wasn’t the painting that was intriguing but the person standing in front of it. He just had this cool posture as he stood near the painting. 

He had his head thrown back as he looked at the painting. He looked laid back, with his back arched to allow full vision of the art in front of him. He seemed like he was part of the display itself. Somehow, this really drew Lydia’s attention. 

Getting out her sketchbook, and a pencil, from her bag Lydia sat down on a bench and began to sketch the boy and the painting. She would look up every once in a while to get the details, but eventually she was just drawing from memory. Until, she needed to look up to confirm a detail. The boy was gone. 

Lydia sighed. That pretty much ruined her piece, although she could finish it up by memory it just wouldn’t be the same. 

“That’s a really nice drawing. If I knew you were drawing me earlier, then I would’ve had the chance to ask you to draw me like one of your French boys,” a familiar voice whispered into Lydia’s ear. She swerved around to look at the boy, almost whipping him with her hair – if not for him jumping back by his own surprise. 

“Stiles?” Lydia choked out, shock clearly written out on her features. She’d expect Stiles to be at some Star Wars convention, or coaxing Scott into watching the movies. Really, almost anything but him being at an art museum – by choice, and that was if he were here by choice. “What are you doing here?”

“My mom used to like going to art museums.” Stiles answered, wringing his hands together. “And, uhm, that’s a really nice drawing. I’m flattered that you’d even draw me.”

Lydia looked down at the drawing, and her cheeks flushed. She didn’t draw people often, and for the subject to see a portrait they didn’t know she was drawing was kind of embarrassing. Then Lydia realized that she was Lydia Martin, she didn’t get embarrassed – especially in front of Stiles. 

“I didn’t know it was you,” she started, “I’m also not used to people seeing my art, so yeah you can stop staring now.”

“I’m not staring,” Stiles explained as Lydia gave him a questioning look. “I’m simply admiring.”

“Well, stop admiring.”

“Lydia,” Stiles started, but then the only thing he seemed to say was Lydia.

Lydia. Lydia. Lydia. He kept repeating her name, and then it felt like the ground was shaking.

“Lydia, wake up.” Scott called. Lydia opened her eyes and looked around. She was in the library with Scott, Malia, and Liam.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m just tired. I haven’t been getting much sleep.” Lydia apologized, looking around at the others.

“You were mentioning Stiles in your sleep…” Scott trailed, probably wanting to tread lightly on the matter to not upset Lydia. She’d been even more frantic about finding him after they’d gotten to talk to Stiles. 

“Was it a banshee thing?” Malia asked, cutting straight to the chase.

“I don’t know. It felt kind of like a memory. Like it was real, but it could’ve just been a dream.” Lydia explained. Something ached in her, as if it was trying to guide her to Stiles. That’s when she realized they had only heard a voice. They hadn’t seen a face, and in her dream Lydia had seen a face.

“Wait. In the dream, I saw his face. I saw Stiles’ face! Somebody hand me a piece of paper, I have to draw this before I forget.” Lydia exclaimed, as Scott quickly obliged and ripped out a paper from his notebook.

Lydia began drawing what she could remember of Stiles.

And Lydia repeated the same thing she’d been thinking for weeks.

We’re coming to get you Stiles. Wherever you are, we’ll find you.


End file.
